"Tougher than long division."

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About The Chubby Ultra Runner

I set up on Wordpress thinking I was a great wordsmith and would write compelling and witty blogposts. I discovered I wasn't even bothered to use it as a diary. I thought that maybe one day I might have a story to tell and think it was good enough to bung it on here.
Once I got into ultra running I became more inclined to download my thoughts and race experiences. I had found other people's blogs and race reports really helpful but I did notice that most were written by rather competent and often seriously competitive runners. I, on the other hand, am not a natural runner but I do love it and I mainly write the blog for my own benefit but I also like to think it's worth blogging about the view from the back of the pack. I reckon the slower runners are a wee bit underrepresented as far as blogs go and I love the idea that I could encourage anyone at all to believe in themselves enough to do something (doesn't have to be an ultra) they really want to and the heck with what anyone else thinks.
One life. Make it count.

Either way I look at it I honestly can’t bloody believe it. It’s not the fact I ran an ultra, it’s more the fact I actually seen something through!

2 years ago this would have never ever EVER have been an idea I would have entertained. How the fuck I came up with this idea in my head is beyond me.

I smoked (more of a part-time smoker these days if I’m honest). Dabbled with excitable enthusiasm with the devil drink. I was unfit with no intention of being fit. Something happened. Hand on heart I’ve come up with umpteen answers but can’t…

Running had been ticking over comfortably for the second half of the summer but as we entered October my mojo for long runs at the weekend deserted me. This was compounded by Real Life catching me out and requiring me to alter my priorities and completely fail to manage my time effectively. I resigned myself to enjoying a lengthy taper (rather than calling it sheer laziness) and told myself I had plenty of miles in the legs already this year and that, combined with some common sense and experience should see me through the 38 flat-ish miles.

‎Thanks to Patricia Carvalho for the photo.

My sister lives in Gala and she seemed more than happy to put me up for the night and taxi me too and from the start. She works out at the Bowhill estate where they were hosting ghost walks in the estate for Halloween. This was…

So, in case you don’t already know, I, well technically we(!), have a little craft business on the side (one that is designed to be profitable rather than just a ‘hobby business’ as they say). We have the rather unusual business of making bespoke and different-to-the-usual medals and trophies.

We have made anything between 3 and 500! Get in touch if you are interested in what we can do for you!

craftrocks@hotmail.co.uk

I want to go through each thing I’ve done individually, but here’s my favourites so far:

Cakefest (2014) – my ultimate favourite medal!

D33 ultramarathon (2016) medals and trophies

D33 ultramarathon (2011) – the first production

D33 ulramarathon (2014) – another favoutite

Jedburgh Ultramarathon (2015) – designed around the Jedburgh Abbey window

Well, I got out for a wee run tonight. I huffed and puffed my way round five kilometres. Yet again, I am back at square one. I’m restarting training for the third time this year as I’ve twice been scuppered by a badly sprained ankle. I’ve also been pretty snowed under with work. In other news, I’ve recently just shorn my very long hair. The hair will be donated for wigs and the shaved head attracted a lot of offers of charitable donations (when I simply mentioned I was planning to do it) so I decided to ask anyone who wished to donate to put it towards my friend George’s fundraising for Breast Cancer Now. If you wish, you can donate here.

A few photos of ankles and hair to hairlessness follow by way of summing up the last three months or so (we won’t go into work stuff):

Lately I’ve been thinking about loss. An anniversary of someone gone too soon has passed, and I’ve borne witness to friends experiencing devastating loss. I wish I could ease their pain, but really all I can do is recognise it and hurt with them.

I was thinking particularly of someone who lost a beloved parent, truly their best friend. There is a gap, a hole, a deep darkness in that person’s life now. In the immediate aftermath, when the grief is raw and palpable, I visualise the griever staring into the dark abyss. They shine all of their love into the darkness where once their love was mirrored and multiplied; in life it shone upon their face and glowed within their heart and soul. Now the dark hole of longing, missing and hurting sucks up the light and love that they faithfully shine into it.

All we can do is shine our love onto them from every other angle that we can; but don’t expect it to reflect back at a time like this. Hope simply that it warms their back or glances upon their cheek, and that it touches them just enough. Enough to keep them going through the dark times – until they find their own way to cope with the aching darkness and eventually redirect the light of their love to find a way forward and a way to remember and honour the one who once reflected and amplified their love so beautifully.